Magic and the Shinigami Detective

by Honor Raconteur

  The words almost made sense, a half-formed notion in my head. “Lights that somehow deal with traffic?”

  “They control traffic.” Edwards hands lifted into the air as she explained. “Say, for instance, that you’re at a four-way crossing. People now let whoever was there first go, correct? But wouldn’t it be faster if a whole stream of cars could go at once? The lights are there for situations like this. There’s three colors: green means go, yellow warns you need to stop soon, and red means to stop and wait.”

  “Ingenious,” Warner breathed. “It would stop traffic congestion at street intersections altogether. And help with the confusion of who’s supposed to go next. Surely it would stop accidents from occurring altogether!”

  Edwards smile twisted in a sardonic uplift. “I’m afraid that last part is impossible, as people will inevitably not be paying as close attention to the road as they should, but it will help, yes. I’ve noticed this especially in the past week that I’ve been driving about. The traffic is getting worse. I’m not sure if it’s because the cars are gaining in popularity or if it’s because the city is growing.”

  “Could be a little of both.” I’d observed for myself the city’s growth. I didn’t quite know the cause, but the amount of housing and new businesses shooting up all over was a silent testament to it. “I would imagine that this invention would take considerable time and money to implement throughout the city. Not to mention training for the drivers.”

  “It’s a simple enough system,” Warner dismissed with a wave of the hand. “Any fool can learn it. And if he can’t, he shouldn’t be driving in the first place.”

  Edwards laughed in agreement. “From your lips to the deity’s ears. Here, hand over that sketch pad. I’ll show you what our lights looked like.”

  Normally I would have protested being sidetracked like this. We’d come here on official business, after all, not to play with a new invention. However, I had a feeling that more than coin, Warner’s currency was information. Ideas. Edwards had paid this woman for her expertise by giving her something else to create. Recognizing this, I sat back and let them discuss the lights for several minutes, only offering my own opinion if I felt the need to say something, but otherwise watching them work.

  There was something alluring about true intelligence at play. Or perhaps I should say seeing ideas being crafted and shaped, formed out of nothing but a spark of imagination into a physical form. A strange giddiness swept up and down my spine as I watched these two women talk, bandying possibilities back and forth, their whole bodies animated by the discussion.

  Edwards obviously enjoyed this. The creative process suited her admirably even if she did nothing more than regurgitate ideas from her own world. I felt sure she wouldn’t run out of anything new for years yet and she’d been quite frank about how lucrative her partnership with the Black Clovers Artificers’ Guild was. Since that was the case, why work as a detective? Her chosen career was dangerous, difficult, with long hours and not much in the way of pay or thanks. So why do it instead of this, something that she obviously enjoyed?

  Why do something that put her in danger? I didn’t want to even imagine what would happen if that spectral energy hit her dead on. Even her stumbling into a patch at a crime scene scared the daylight right out of me.

  Part of me dearly wanted to ask, but I didn’t feel I had the right to pry. We were work colleagues, tottering on the edge of possibly becoming friends, and that kind of relationship didn’t give me the right to pester her with inappropriate questions.

  Why did my own conclusion depress me?

  Warner sat back with a happy hum. “Excellent. I think I understand enough to design something suitable. I’ll run this by the city commissioner first, though, and see if he’ll go for it. He likely will, but there’s no sense in me developing this if I don’t have a client for it.”

  “Too true,” Edwards agreed amiably, not at all bothered by her attitude. “Now, any other thoughts on our first problem?”

  “A few, but I’d like to study this out, perhaps make a mockup, see how viable my theories are. I might be able to give you better information of how they’re doing this. Give me a few days.”

  “Sure.” Edwards glanced at me, eyes asking if I had any follow-up questions.

  I only had two: “Guildmaster, do you wish to keep my notes? For reference?”

  She nodded readily. “If you don’t mind.”

  “I likely won’t need them for several days, so that’s fine.” I had them mostly memorized at this point anyway, I’d stared at them so much. “When you get ready to test this, I wish to bring in my other colleague, Dr. Newell. He has experience in something similar to this.”

  Warner’s green eyes went wide with recognition. “Newell, you say? He was one of my professors. How is the old chap? I haven’t seen or heard about him in years.”

  “Still odd, still brilliant,” I responded truthfully. “He’d very much enjoy being pulled into this process, as the whole idea intrigued him. I can give you his directions, if you like?”

  “Do,” Warner encouraged promptly, the word punctuated with a sharp nod. “I want to bring him in on this if he has experience in it. Spectral energy isn’t my specialty anyway; having someone to confer with will keep me from developing a splitting headache.”

  Perfect. I had arranged for Newell to now be involved with the project, keeping him in the loop and thereby avoiding any hurt feelings, and I’d done so swimmingly, if I did say so myself. My grin was perhaps a tad smug when I scribbled Newell’s address at the top of her rough sketch.

  Satisfied, she gave a grunt before pointing a stern finger at Edwards. “We’re having dinner tonight. I’m picking your brain.”

  It could have been taken as a threat, the words were delivered so harshly, but Edwards laughed in delight. “Mercy, Ellie, mercy! I can’t think of every single invention you don’t have in a sole instance. I’m still trying to discover what all you do have.”

  “Excuses, I don’t want to hear any of it! Dinner, six o’clock sharp. I’ll pick you up.”

  Raising both hands in surrender, Edwards agreed, “I’ll be ready.” Standing, she grinned at her friend. “See you later, then.”

  I gave my own farewell, turning to follow her out the door, when Warner snagged me by the elbow and pulled me in sharply, nearly upsetting my balance. “Wait, Doctor Davenforth,” she hissed in a low tone. “I’ll make this quick. You can see how unstable Jamie’s core is?”

  “Yes.” The words were bile in my throat. “I know.”

  “Do not let her get anywhere near this spectral energy, especially right after a discharge.” Warner’s tone and eyes were intense, penetrating. “She won’t be able to handle it.”

  While I understood the danger, I felt the warning too vague. “How close is too dangerous?”

  “I think ten feet away might be too close.”

  Nodding understanding, I swore, “I’ll keep her twenty feet away.”

  Edwards paused at the door, apparently realized that I wasn’t following, and turned to call back, “What? Did we forget something?”

  Warner pushed me away as suddenly as she’d pulled me, pinning an uncaring smile on her face. “Not at all, just a quick thought.”

  Looking back at this attractive, competent woman quickly becoming my friend, I thought of where this case might lead us and felt my gut churn in a queasy roll.

  Did she understand that by pursuing this case, it might destroy her?

  I lay in bed that night thinking long and hard.

  What was I supposed to do?

  Flat on my back, I stared sightlessly up at the dark ceiling. The room was perfectly warm, my bed comfortable, so I could not blame my environment for my inability to sleep. The blame for that lay solely upon my own door. I wanted to sleep, or at least my body was inclined to do so, but my mind utterly refused to be still. It kept reaching back for the problem of Jamie Edwards, insisting that there must be a solution.

 
If one existed, I hadn’t been able to determine it.

  When I’d first thought of becoming a Magical Examiner, I’d done so with the vague thought that the career path would perfectly suit my own nature. I did my best work when not interrupted constantly by other people’s demands. Not that I didn’t enjoy the comradery of my fellow men, I just found that being entangled with them became exhausting. I needed consistent breaks from them, allow my mental processes to recharge. To that end, my own social circle remained small, as I frankly couldn’t find the energy to cater to a larger one.

  Somehow, Jamie Edwards had breached that social circle. I found myself endlessly worrying about her welfare. When precisely had that happened? When she was assigned as my partner? Not that I knew, really, what to do with a partner. Thankfully, she seemed to.

  Ellie Warner demanded that I safeguard. Certainly I didn’t wish to see my partner injured, not if I could prevent it, but how did I protect her? How did I approach her, to not set her back up? With a mother and sister, not to mention aunts and cousins, I knew very well that an enraged woman would do the opposite of what you wished just out of spite. I absolutely had no intention of bungling this matter with Jamie and running afoul of that scenario.

  From above my head came the sound of soft thumps, then a short, exclaimed word.

  Silence.

  What was that? From the direction of the noise, it had to come from Jamie’s apartment. Was something amiss?

  I listened hard, but the sounds didn’t repeat. There might have been the slight squeak of springs, as if someone had rolled out of bed, but I heard nothing further. Perhaps she, too, found it difficult to sleep?

  Rolling over, I tried to find a more comfortable position, attempting in vain to convince my mind to ease into darkness. It insisted upon a solution first, or at the very least, a plan of action.

  I didn’t know how to bring this up to Edwards. I didn’t know how to tell her that I thought she should hand this case over to someone else. For that matter, I was unsure if Captain Gregson would allow her to.

  Perhaps before I argued the point with her, I should approach the captain first and see if he would be open to a reassignment.

  There, a plan. Determined to sleep, I shut my eyes, willing myself into the ease of deep slumber.

  Three seconds later, my eyes sprung open.

  It would be a very long night.

  Gregson was sometimes a hard man to pin down. He worked behind his desk at odd hours, as most of the time he preferred a more hands-on approach. He kept his thumb on the pulse of this precinct by being actively involved in everyone’s cases, and at any given time, he knew what his detectives were up to. I normally only saw him when he followed up on a larger, more demanding case, and wanted to see the chain of evidence with his own eyes.

  For once, our illustrious captain could be found at his desk. Several binders obscured my view, stacked up in a precarious way off to one side. Gregson had his feet up, a report in front of him, a steaming cup of tea on the desk that smelled strongly of cinnamon. His greying hair, while short, stuck up a little on one side, as if he’d recently ran a hand through it. His uniform was properly buttoned and pressed, however, so nothing truly stressful had bothered him today. At least, not yet.

  Gregson had twenty years on me, and aside from trusting him in an official capacity, I liked him as a person. I often thought that I would prefer to have a man like him as an older brother instead of the older sister fate had dealt me. My regard for him sometimes made me more candid than I should be with a boss, and I prayed that this wasn’t one of those times as I gave a quick rap on the open door. “Captain. A word, if I may?”

  Looking up, Gregson gestured me inside, letting his report down on the desk even as he sat up properly. “Davenforth. Rare to see you in my office. What’s wrong?”

  Cutting to the heart of the matter, eh? I closed the door behind me and took one of the wooden chairs in front of his desk. “Captain. I’m frankly worried about Detective Edwards.”

  His greying eyebrows closed together in a frown, words delivered in a warning rumble. “Jamie Edwards is one of the best detectives that we have.”

  “She is,” I agreed without any hesitation or reservations. My sincerity stopped him dead. “I’m not here to complain about her, sir. I’m here because I’m worried about her health.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

  I chose my words carefully, not willing to break a confidence, which felt rather ludicrous as technically I hadn’t been taken into confidence. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of the…side effects Edwards suffers because of her time with Belladonna.”

  Gregson’s blue eyes narrowed. “You know.”

  Those two words told me a great deal. “I’ve only been informed of some of the particulars.”

  A stubborn slant of his mouth set in.

  Unbending a little more, I allowed, “I am aware that Edwards’ core was disrupted because of Belladonna’s experiments on her and that it takes a complex matrix of stabilizing spells to keep her healthy. Don’t look so surprised, Captain. I do have eyes. Two of them. They both work quite well.”

  Blowing out a steady stream of air, Gregson looked away, peering out of the window for a long moment. “This is between the two of us and doesn’t leave this room.”

  I nodded immediately in agreement.

  Still with a face full of misgivings, Gregson continued, “Everything you said is correct. The exact nature was explained to me, but not having a magical fiber in my being, I didn’t follow even half of it. I do understand that on a day to day basis, this doesn’t affect her, but she has to go in for a renewal of the stasis spell once a month. Whatever Belladonna did messed with her so badly that even when a spell is applied by a Royal Mage, it can become frazzled within a month’s time.”

  I winced at hearing this. Royal Mages were rare. The Royal Court never had a specific number of positions that they tried to keep full. Instead they elevated any mage with enough power and skill to that rank. We currently had three, keeping more or less in standard with previous eras. The most on record, ever, was eleven. “The Royal Mage being Sherard Seaton.”

  “Oh? How’d you know?”

  “Let’s say it was a logical deduction I made recently.” I had seen Sherard Seaton precisely twice and the man radiated power like a bonfire. The greatest of magicians did, as if they had so much power they leaked it without intending to. I knew well throughout schooling that it was not my magical power that made me formidable in my field, but my intellect. It wasn’t until I’d stood in the same room as Sherard Seaton that I felt the difference between myself and a Royal Mage right down to my bones.

  If even a man of that caliber had to reapply his spells on a monthly basis? Then Edwards was doing well to stay alive and functioning.

  Gregson gave me a grim nod. “You are right to worry about her health, but I would never assign her cases if I didn’t think her up to it.”

  Again, I chose my words carefully. “On regular cases I wouldn’t be worried. This case, however, is incredibly dangerous for her.”

  “How so?” Gregson prompted, mouth drawing down into an unhappy line.

  “Sir, think about this. We’re up against thieves that can cut through several wards, strong, nearly impenetrable wards, within seconds. Spectral energy can disrupt magical spells, wards, and hexes with alarming efficiency. If Detective Edwards gets too close to a source of spectral energy, even the residue of it, it can severely disrupt the stasis spell she is under.”

  Gregson buried his face in his hands for a moment before running both hands roughly through his hair. “Deities, I didn’t think of that. I haven’t been following your reports for the past two days. Is this something you recently discovered?”

  “More like it was pointed out to me yesterday what the effects on her would be.” I still felt somewhat embarrassed that I hadn’t put the pieces together sooner. “Captain, Edwards has been professional and competent the past few week
s. I can honestly say that I’ve enjoyed working with her. I do not wish to comprise her safety by having her on this case.”

  Gregson again stared out of the window. He sat there for a long time wearing what I termed his ‘thinking face.’ Finally, he spoke, although he didn’t look at me. “I promised her the first day she came on the job that I would treat her as any other detective.”

  This answer angered me. My spine went stiff as I gritted out, “There’s a difference between treating her as any other colleague and putting her in mortal danger—”

  “How much do you know about her?” Gregson cut through, eyes pinning me in the chair. “Really know about her?”

  “She’s from another world,” I answered curtly, anger curtailing my usual discretion. “She’s bitterly alone here through no fault of her own, and despite that, still tries to live a good life here in a country not of her choice. Her courage puts most men to shame. She has a terrible sweet tooth, drives like a maniac, and is one of the most intelligent women I’ve ever met. What’s this question in aid of?”

  Gregson, for the first time since my entrance, looked completely flabbergasted. His jaw dangled for several seconds before he spluttered, “You actually like her!”

  I glared at him eloquently for that bit of stupidity. “I do like people, Gregson.”

  “No, you don’t!” he denied, still spluttering. “You respect a few people, you tolerate others, but you loathe half of this precinct. Sanderson, for example.”

  “I loathe Sanderson, as you so quaintly put it, because if you gather up all of his brain cells, it would have the collective intelligence of a flatworm,” I snapped, trying very hard to rein in my temper. I’d come here to safeguard a friend, not be accused of…whatever I’m being accused of. Anti-social tendencies?

  Gregson winced. “That aside, I’m surprised by you. You don’t actually like to work alongside anyone. I’d made a personal bet that you and Edwards wouldn’t last a week.”

  I settled on glowering at the man, as he had successfully gone completely off topic.